To Err is Human
by 13pens
Summary: There was nothing false about the statement that Regina did not need Emma and Henry anymore. But that did not mean she didn't still love them. But how? How do you love people that love you just as much, but fail everywhere else on accounts of trust, responsibility, and understanding? That meet you not halfway, but half a decade later? super-dysfunctional SQ, and introducing an OC
1. Picture Imperfect

**A/N: **Hello readers, I'd like to formally introduce my first OC baby... be kind to her, love her as her mother does, as she is central to this fic's themes.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Picture Imperfect**

* * *

There is a picture that Nadia's mother keeps in the livingroom. It sits on top of the mantelpiece of the rarely lit fireplace, framed by dull green painted wood with a thin layer of dust that her mother wipes off only once a year. Two faces are frozen in that picture, a woman Nadia does not know and a boy so average she could spot at least five look-a-likes on campus. Yet, she knows he is not an average boy, and that the woman is not unimportant either.

Despite the strong bonds that she and her mother share, Nadia cannot bring herself to ask who these people are. Sometimes she catches her glancing at it with a kind of sorrow that her other mother, her original one, would have when she looked out the window, sometimes at the newspaper, or when watching TV. She sits in front of that fireplace that no one uses, and stares at that mossy green frame encasing two shadows. Only when she notices Nadia standing at the doorway does her face light up again, saying in her usual way, "Gem, what do you want to eat for dinner?"

But most of the time Nadia ignores this picture. Those are one of the sad things in her house, and the sad things are always overcome by laughter, many hugs, daily reminders that the other is loved. She forgets this picture exists, and the only time she remembers that it is in the house is when she catches her mother looking at it, but that is only as often as she cleans it: once a year.

Besides, there is no reason for her to be thinking about it now. Today is her mother's birthday. They don't have big plans today; they both like to celebrate privately, just the two of them. She holds a box of pastries and another containing a small cake from Porto's Bakery, a favorite that they both share, and walks home with a friend (her mother insists that she always has someone to walk with her - she watches the news far too much, Nadia thinks, but there is ground in her worries).

"Yellow punch buggy, no punch backs," her friend says, prodding her on the arm with a playful fist, but before Nadia can return the light blow anyway, a brief glance at the car and who is inside as it drives past her renders her unresponsive. There is no reason for her to be thinking of the picture on the mantelpiece except that she suspects that there is no longer a frame that bounds them.

Nadia is reading _East of Eden_ for English on the couch when her mother finally gets home. The front door closes and heels clack in her direction before she sets down the book to greet her mother with a kiss on the cheek.

"_Buenos tardes_," her mother attempts with an imperfect accent.

"_Buenas_. I'll let this one go cause it's your birthday," Nadia says with feigned seriousness, and her mother laughs. "I bought Porto's."

"And I bought lasagna. I would've made it myself but I deserve a break, don't you think?"

They set up the dining table with the cake in the center. It is layered with thin slices of apples, peaches, and strawberries, topped with a chocolate plate reading: "Happy Birthday, mom!"

Nadia sticks the candle in (a plain one, as her mother detests age-specific celebratory wax), and her mother lights it with a match.

"What will you wish for this time?"

"You ask me every year but you know things won't come true if I tell you," she teases, even though she doesn't believe in any of that. "I wish what I always wish for. For our happiness."

She blows out the candle, and gray silk that forms in the air is gratifying.

"Let's get started, I know you're hungry."

Nadia opens the box of pastries first and then remembers what she had seen that afternoon. "Mom, can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she replies, but a series of knocks on the door interrupt her inquiry. "Huh. We're not expecting anyone, are we?"

Before Nadia can answer, the knob is turned and the white wood swings open. Her mother always forgets that their door has a peephole, and that sometimes it is best to use it, because the silence that follows when she sees who is in front of her is deadening.

There is no "good evening, how may I help you," or any politeness that usually comes with a stranger at the door, nor does she say a name in recognition. Nadia's mother just stands there, red lips open, those sad eyes returning. When Nadia walks up behind her, she sees them. The woman and the boy.

"Regina," the woman says. It is all she says.


	2. A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning

**Chapter 2: A Valediction Forbidding Mourning**

* * *

"Regina," Emma says, and is unable to say more. She hopes that Henry can speak in her place, whatever she wanted to convey in the first place, but she finds that he is just as dumbfounded. In private, when it was just the two of them (as it had been, for half a decade now), he talked incessantly about what he'd say when this day finally happened. Now he cannot summon a word.

Regina's visage is washed with professional composure after a moment of evident vulnerability. She does that thing she does, Emma notes, how she straightens her back and holds her arms in front of her chest. It's like she hasn't changed much over the past 5 years.

Emma knows in her heart of hearts that is wrong. She's changed much - and it shows when Regina is able to look at Henry and not seem to feel a thing.

It stings.

There is a girl behind Regina who Emma has never seen before. She looks about Henry's age, maybe younger, though she she looks taller than him by a little. She knows its no part to genetics whatsoever, but she has Regina's eyes.

"Mom?" she says, and Emma can feel Henry shiver. "Who's here?"

Regina looks down at the floor briefly before stepping back to pull the girl next to her.

"Nadia, this is Miss Emma Swan, and Henry ... Swan. Emma, Henry, this is my daughter."

"Nice to meet you," Henry extends a hand, and Nadia shakes it.

"You can call me Gem."

Gem doesn't see it, but there is a look in her mother's eye that is reminiscent of her old territorial habits, but no one can say it's without good reason.

Emma takes a turn with the handshake. "Hey. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"We were just about to have my birthday dinner," Regina says, her voice layered with . "There's more than enough if you join us."

"Oh, no," Emma begins to say, "if this is a bad time -"

"I insist. Come in."

Everyone knows it is her way of saying that it was worst possible time.

[~][~][~]

They're all gathered around the dining table as Regina slides slabs of the store-bought lasagna on each of their plates. Henry's stomach grumbles in the memory of having her cook this for him every day back then. His heartbeat quickens in the reality of the moment, and how disappointing it is.

He'd come all this way with Emma to find Regina, and now he couldn't even look her in the eye. She'd looked at him as if he were some coworker's kid, and made no mention of how much he'd grown, how tall he was now, or how deep his voice had gotten. She didn't notice him at all, and with this disillusionment he doesn't know if he can eat. (But it's rude not to. Regina taught him those meal manners long before Emma thought to use them herself.)

There are some awkward glances between Emma and Nadia, because she gives her this eye of recognition and curiosity. It bothers her. Maybe not so much that she's looking at her like she's grown a third eye on her forehead, but that there's a witness to whatever disaster will be served as bitter dessert. And that witness is Regina's new daughter.

A sense of betrayal can't be helped. But it's not like Emma or Henry are any better at all.

"Tell me when," Regina says as she pulls out a ridiculous block of cheese and a grater over Emma's plate.

"That's fine," she says after it's fallen like snow on the plains of egg noodle and tomato.

It's a horrible thing, and Emma knows that this is not Regina playing nice, this is Regina trying to make them feel uncomfortable and guilty as if they were in the wrong house altogether. She puts them on the spot, because if she doesn't, she might break - a vase, Emma's neck, or herself.

She begins to wonder why they'd come here.

Then as easily as looking at her, looking at the way she smiles at Gem the way she once smiled at her and Henry, she remembers.

Regina finally takes a seat at the head of the table and begins eating. When she doesn't speak before a meal, Gem knows she won't speak at all.

Clacks of forks and knives on ceramics fill in the silence until Gem decides to break it.

"Where are you all from?" Gem asks their guests.

"We're from Maine," Henry answers.

"Oh. That's where you're from, right, mom?"

Regina looks down on her plate, elegantly cutting and placing small portions of food in her mouth. "Yes," she finally says after swallowing.

"Are you old friends?" This didn't seem like an old reunion, Gem was aware. She'd seen better reception with complete strangers than this between her mother and the people she kept a picture of but apparently didn't like very much. There was still no harm in asking.

"Sort of, yeah," Emma says. "I didn't know about you, kid," she adds, trying to be casual and friendly, and when it seems that Regina hasn't thrown a knife in her general direction for interacting with her child in any way past formality, she continues. "How old are you?"

"I'm 16."

"Cool. Henry just turned 16, didn't you?" she nudges him with her elbow and he promptly nods, mouth still full of lasagna.

He is actually a month until said age, but Regina doesn't say anything.

"Why aren't you in school?" Gem inquires.

Henry is about to answer that he's been homeschooled, but he thinks of something, and a grin that might've conveyed mischief appears on his face. He takes a quick glance at Regina, then back to Gem. "Oh, I don't go to school anymore."

Regina audibly chokes.

"Mom, you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She wipes her mouth and pretends nothing happened.

Gem shifts her attention back to Henry. "Really? Are you already done?"

"Nah. I don't need school. All those things they tell you are useful, like algebra and reading, aren't really worth the time. If you're really smart, you wouldn't rely on old geezers telling you what to do."

Everyone can see that Regina is making special effort to hold on to her cutlery. Emma and Henry know why, though Gem is unfortunately left in the dark.

"How do you know?"

"My mom told me."

"She what?" Regina finally snaps, clanging her fork and knife down at the side of her plate; she can no longer take this.

It's when Henry raises his big, youthful eyes back at her and Emma is hiding her smile behind her now tomato-stained knuckles (she is a messy eater, always was, always will be) that Regina realizes the game he's playing.

She looks at Gem, and even though her daughter hasn't the slightest clue what is happening, the corners of her lips are pulled up in amusement.

"We were wondering if we'd have to tell you about his new tattoo," Emma quips, no longer making an effort to hide her smile.

And that's when Regina softens, because then her stiff shoulders give way into a sigh, and she laughs. She holds her head with her elbow perched on the table, shakes her head, and laughs.

[~][~][~]

Henry's trick is successful in lifting the constricting atmosphere that Regina had tried and failed in creating. She couldn't help it but walk into that one. Things have changed quite dramatically, but some things stay the same whether she likes it or not, and one of them happens to be her concern for her former son.

Gem is loaded with questions that she is sure to ask when their guests are gone, and for now she makes quick acquaintance with Henry while Regina takes their finished plates to the sink.

"Let me help with that," Emma offers when Regina is done with the first plate, scooting her to the drying division of dish duty.

She looks at her from the corner of her eye as she lathers the second plate with apple-scented dish soap. She still has that faint smile on her face, one that she has never actually...seen before. She looks gentle and sad all at the same time, and though there are now deeper lines around her eyes and her hair has grown long enough to tie back, she still looks as beautiful as she did. Perhaps even more.

"It's Mills again," she says.

"Pardon?"

"He changed it back to Mills."

"Oh." The short staccato response is all Regina offers to the piece of information that Emma had hoped would make her more receptive. But they both know it's a pathetic attempt at amends, even on Henry's part, and Regina best not respond to it lest she gives away the anger at the insufficiency.

"We didn't mean to crash your birthday," she says, then quickly adds, "not that we didn't remember. We knew, we just... It's nice to see you again." Emma internally curses at her foot-in-mouth tendencies. She rinses the whitened plate and passes it to Regina for her to dry.

"I suppose. I'm happy to see you and Henry are well."

"You didn't seem that way at first."

Regina doesn't answer, but instead shines the dish with the cloth until her reflection is visible. She looks away as soon as it is, not wanting to bear the weight of her own pained eyes.

"We've been sending letters and stuff over the past few years. I was beginning to wonder if maybe I'd found the wrong address."

Regina considers answering with the fact that yes, she'd received all of them, just none of them are opened or touched and are stored away. She decides against it when her preference for straightforwardness sees an opportunity.

"Why did you come here?" she asks, not looking Emma in the eye.

There is no immediate answer. Emma hopes that it's enough when she lays a soapy hand on Regina's, gripping her fingers.

"We miss you."

They look at eachother then, and it's there. Those old feelings and sentiments are bubbling up in Regina's stomach again, and she doesn't them want to, so she quickly retreats her hand and puts it under the running water, washing away the soap and symbolically washing away Emma.

"You came to ask me to come back." Her voice is back to that mayoral tone, hard and bitter. Neither Emma nor Henry had said this motive explicitly, but why else? They have a notorious pattern of either wanting Regina completely or shunning her altogether.

"Not if you don't want to."

"Well I don't."

"I don't think you're telling me the truth," Emma challenges, and that's when Regina lets go of herself completely.

"If you think you can wait five years before coming after me with sob stories and empty apologies, you have another thing coming, Miss Swan. I am not someone you can just 'take back' after everything!"

"Shh! Goddamnit, Regina, don't raise your voice, they'll hear."

This is nothing Regina wants Gem to hear. That is the only thing Emma has over her in this situation. Had it just been Henry, she wouldn't have silenced herself.

"I'm sorry," Emma apologizes, resuming her work with the sponge. "Can I ask about Gem?"

"Nadia's been my adoptive daughter for four years," Regina's voice softens, but goes rigid once more. "But the rest, Miss Swan, is none of your business."

"Noted. You two seem real close, is all."

"Yes. We are."

The last dish is dried and put away, and the two of them are left standing next to each other with no busy work to divert their eyes. Emma is finally the one who speaks.

"Regina, I'm so sorry."

"You don't know what you're sorry for. Go on now. It's late. Gem has school tomorrow and I've had a long day."

* * *

_Storybrooke, 5 years ago_

When Regina leaves, it is quiet and unnoticed. There is no one in her lonely house to witness the harsh pink flush on her wet face, to turn the faucet eyes off with reassurance, or to stop her from throwing clothes and belongings into bags she thought she'd never have to use. There is no one - no Henry, no Emma - to hear the heavy treading of fast pace heels desperate to escape, or to follow them down the Storybrooke border.

After a period of prolonged denial, she reasons that this, that running, is what she needs. It is definitely not what she wants, but with Cora gone and defeated and her sacrifices to make that happen gone unthanked, this is what is best. Henry can't be her ground anymore - he has already broken her in a quake, left her to deal with the aftershocks on her own. He has Emma now - the Emma she loved, too, once upon a time. But the misalignment of miscommunication, distrust and dark magic has crumpled them up, far too much to be smoothed out. No, it is time to leave the impossible prospect of belonging. It was time to do something Regina had previously lacked the courage to do on her own. It was time to rebuild.

She says goodbye to no one. She leaves a solitary note on her bed, lest anyone should come searching for answers, but she has little confidence in its discovery. By the time the mansion doors are flung open, with the voices that used to matter echoing in emptiness and her number on constant redial on Emma's phone, Regina has already put her foot down on the ground hundreds of miles away.

No one wanted to accept it, but this is how it would be like. Waiting too much, too long, and coming too late.

* * *

Emma and Regina are talking in hushes in the kitchen as Gem and Henry converse in the living room.

"What was that earlier?" she asks him. "No one's ever made my mother so frustrated."

"Oh, it's... something we used to do, I guess," he half-lies, hands twiddling on his lap. He spots a book on the coffee table. "What's that you got there?"

"East of Eden. I'm reading it for English."

"Is it good?"

"You haven't read it?"

"Nah. My last encounter with Steinbeck was with Grapes of Wrath and describing how turtles walked for five pages."

"That's a shame, this one seems pretty good. Slow at first, like the turtle, but it gets really good."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"What's your favorite book then?"

Henry blushes. He doesn't want to say that old book of fairy tales that he's kept since he'd gotten it. Reasons vary from not wanting to look like a little girl in front of a new potential friend (something he's been lacking for a good while, nevermind that she's technically his adoptive sister), and the fact that it's not his favorite anymore. That book opened up solutions but exacerbated problems that he is still dealing with.

"Haven't decided."

("-everything!"

"Shh!")

"Are they arguing?" Gem asks, turning her head toward the kitchen.

"They do that a lot," Henry regretfully says. "Or did."

The statement is the card that slips in Gem's castle of questions. She looks at Henry intently. She sees the way his eyes cast downward off into the vague distance the way Regina does when she loses herself in the picture atop the mantelpiece.

"How do you know my mother?"

Henry can't help it then. Neither he nor Emma expected Gem, so they didn't make protocol on what could and couldn't be said. It's all impulse, because when Gem says "my mother", Henry can't help but to feel that he needs to establish the opposite.

"Because she's my mom."


	3. Blood as Thick as Water

Thank you to all who have shown interest in this fic! It means a lot to me, and I'm putting a ridiculous amount of effort (relative to other things that should be important, like, say, paying attention in class) to making this work. Thanks again!

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**Chapter 3: Blood as Thick as Water**

* * *

Regina leads their guests to the door, all formality and no genuine smile on her face. Henry stands at the door meaning to say something to her, but again he is rendered speechless by her cold and impersonal look. She's keeping appearances, like she had always done, but he never thought there would be a day that detached yet stinging languor would be directed at him.

She softens, only for a second, only to say, "Goodbye, Henry."

[~][~][~]

Henry plops into the front seat of Emma's buggy, and all he wants right now is to plop into bed and never get up. He doesn't know what he expected from this visit, but he does know that he wanted to leave with a warm knowing lull in his heart, and not this sharp ache that threatens to sink into his stomach. They drive off and the house shrinks away behind trees and other buildings.

"She hates us."

Emma sighs. "She's pretty upset, what did you expect?" her voice is low and monotone. She's drained, just as he is.

"Did you tell her?"

"Tell her what?"

"Why it took so long? Did you?" Henry gets anxious now, his hands shaking on top of his lap. "Maybe then, she'd understand, and she wouldn't be so angry-"

"She got our letters."

"Did she read them?"

"I don't know. Probably, and if she did it didn't seem to make a difference, and if she didn't then I don't think it'll matter anyway. It doesn't matter whether she knows or not, and," Emma's speech speeds up and crescendos with frustration. Her knuckles are bone white as she squeezes the wheel, and Henry's afraid she might break it off. She stops herself to take a breath, loosen her grip, and try again, softer. "The last thing we need are excuses, Henry."

There's relative silence as Henry looks out the window. There is a park, where children swing as others push them up higher and higher or run around and climb an old, stooping tree. Their mothers sit on the bench and watch them from the corner of their eyes as they converse. One boy, no older than six, scrapes his knee and an older woman comes rushing to his side. They become microscopic before Henry can know what she does about her hurt child.

"She replaced us," Henry mopes.

"Stop it," Emma says, and it comes out rougher than she wanted it to. Part of her has been quietly repeating the same sentence ever since she saw Gem at the door, but saying it that way and incriminating Regina for just wanting to be happy isn't something she wants to do. They have long since left that stage.

"You have to stop thinking like that," she says hopefully more to him than to herself. "It's not her fault we fucked up."

"But don't you want to fix things, too?" Henry insists, looking at Emma now as she keeps her attention on the road. "Isn't that why we stayed behind?"

That particular question stings, and Emma tries to push back the still fresh memories of why.

"Don't you miss her?"

They approach the apartment complex they settled into weeks ago, a pale blue building up a series of small hills. Silence, save for the sound of tires over gravel and the engine, fill the air between them until she parks the car and slumps back into her seat.

Her hands are over her face, and what comes out is almost a sob.

"I do."

* * *

_Storybrooke, 2 months before the curse is broken._

They are in a comfortable tangle of legs under the sheets of Regina's bed. The sun rises as 5 am comes ticking along, and soon Emma will need to dress up and go before Henry wakes up.

Regina had called her over in the early hours past midnight wanting company after a particularly vicious argument with him. Emma could never turn those down, and what started as consoling cuddling quickly turned into lips on skin and clothes over the bed.

They have been doing this for a while, and neither is really able to remember how it began. Emma likes to joke that it's part of Regina's curse, that she's been charmed into sleeping with her. It's not, but the idea is enough to be a suspicion unsettling to Regina.

She often wonders if it really is an unexpected and unwritten effect of the curse, primarily because of what comes out of Emma's mouth when they're nakedly intimate like this.

"I'll marry you," she says as if it is the plainest thing in the world. Her lips graze Regina's forehead, and she plays with her hair at the back of her head. "When everything's calmed down, I will."

"You'll do no such thing," Regina states without offense, her breath tickling the skin of Emma's neck.

"Bet you I will," she challenges but is soft spoken. She pulls away for a moment to look Regina in the face.

"I love you."

Regina tenses ever so slightly. "Your post-coital mannerisms are starting to concern me, Miss Swan." Her tone plays it off as a quip, but there is hurt underneath the layers.

Emma only opens up like this after she's opened up her legs, it seems, and Regina thinks it ridiculous for her to wear her heart on her sleeve, and so loosely, too. She hates it, secretly, and likes it much better when Emma is hurling insults and accusations her way. It's better than to have hope, to want to believe it when she says bullshit like that.

"It's the only time I can," she says, brushing the back of her knuckles along Regina's cheek. "You're too tired to bite my head off."

Regina doesn't say anything, but instead just scoots her head closer so that their foreheads touch and closes her eyes. She's sleepy, and she knows she'll get no rest for many days after this.

"You should go soon. Henry knows and he's not happy about it."

"Oh fuck, really? You didn't teach the kid about two kings or two queens or whatever?"

"It's not about that." Regina rubs her foot against Emma's, trying to collect warmth, but instead there are tears collecting behind her eyelids. She lets them fall, if only in front of Emma, and if only here and now.

"Why can't he love me the way he loves you?" she says in broken whispers.

Emma wraps her arms more securely around Regina, planting feather light kisses atop her head. "He does love you. Trust me."

Regina knows he doesn't, but believes Emma anyway.

* * *

"You didn't tell me I had a brother," Gem brings up the subject much later in the night. They read separately but together on Gem's bed as they have ritually done before sleep.

Regina is leaning her back into piled pillows next to Gem's feet reading _Doctor Zhivago_. She keeps her eyes on the pages with half attention.

"You don't," she says plainly, and tries to change the subject. "How's that book?"

"It's interesting."

Silence only interrupted by page turning fills the room. A couple of them have been turned back and forth, because no real reading has been done.

Regina can take it no more and promptly closes her book on her lap. "What did Henry say to you?"

Gem notes the evident stress on her mother's face, and it is unsettling to see her this way. "He said you're his mom."

When he had said it to her, he had meant to get territorial to threaten her. Maybe he wanted her to back off (as if she could, legally or otherwise, who did he think he was?), but it had no real effect on Gem. She is secure in her relationship with mother enough that she knows that Regina would never, ever leave her. Instead, the thoughts wander to other implications. Nadia's parents before Regina never had children after her, and though her impression of Henry is mixed with bitter and sweet, having an adoptive brother is a prospect that fascinates her.

Yet she knows it's wrong to feel this way, because Regina does not seem share the sentiment at all. It's foolish above selfish to go raving off wanting to spend time with people who she isn't even sure desires the same.

Regina sighs. "I wasn't ready to tell you."

"Are you ready now?"

Regina puts on a regretful smile and shakes her head. "No." She puts a hand atop Gem's shin and leans forward to speak softly. "I do want you to know. But maybe another time, or another way. I don't want to talk about it, please understand."

"I understand," Gem says, and resolves to treat this the same way she's treated the picture of Henry and Emma: by never asking again.

"It's time to sleep, its almost midnight." Regina gets up and leans down to for them to kiss on the cheek. They say their goodnights, and when Regina leaves Gem's room she is quick to let the tears blur out her vision.

* * *

By morning the events of the previous night are as good as forgotten. Regina cooks breakfast as usual, exchanges a _buenos días_ without mixing up masculines and feminines, and the two of them talk as normally as they always have. There is a slight difference in that Gem can see that her mother's eyelids are swollen. It is a sight that is not unfamiliar to her, as she used to see it for many days in front of the mirror, but she doesn't try to undermine Regina's special efforts to ignore the dry pain around her eyes.

Afterschool, Gem goes with Jackie to Starbucks instead of the library to talk over iced tea. (Jackie is a friend that Gem favors the most, particularly because Jackie has both known her since elementary and never gave her continual trouble when she suddenly went from Nadia Salazar to Nadia "Gem" Mills.)

Their conversation consists of tests, homework, albums released, concerts they wish they could go to, movies that failed to live up to their literary counterparts, and at this moment Gem can safely say that she doesn't even remember what happened the other night, until it all comes springing back into her reality.

"That boy's giving you some weird eyes," Jackie notes, looking behind Gem.

"What? Who?" She turns around from her seat to see a boy quickly turn his head away from her general direction whilst innocently sipping a bottle of SoBe from a straw. "Oh. Oh wow. Hold on, Jackie."

She arises from her seat and makes her way to Henry's table, and he almost looks intimidated. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Henry shrugs.

"You're such a creep, did you follow me or something? Fine. I'll tell my friend."

"Wait, in private-"

"Yeah, genius, I know," Gem bites back before she turns and goes back to her table. "I need to go."

Jackie feigns surprise, a grin splayed on her face. "Whoa, Nadia. You work fast." She makes a waggle of her eyebrow and Gem promptly smacks her arm.

"Jackie oh my god he's my brother."

"That pasty white thing?" Jackie says loud enough for Henry to hear, and he blushes. "Oh, no. Red thing."

Gem laughs. "Bye."

[~][~][~]

They walk to the park a few blocks away, and for the meantime they forget who they are. Small talk is about school and books, like the first time, and it's as if they're just normal kids, like the rest of them, with backpacks slung over their shoulders and old sneakers dirty from treading across campus in mud or concrete.

When they sit down on the swings, that moment is officially over, and neither admits the loss they feel in the back of their heads.

"I'm really sorry for last night," Henry says genuinely. "That was rude."

"It's fine," she says, even though it's not, but he apologizes and means it so it might as well be. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Your mom didn't tell you?"

Gem shakes her head. Henry thinks about how it's not surprising that she hadn't told her the truth, but then waves away the thought. She's not like that anymore, he tells himself, and it's true - there are no signs that Gem was told not to speak with him or Emma, and she holds no preconceptions about them save for the ones formed from the night prior. He has to get rid of the habit of assuming the worst of Regina. He feels horrible that it's something he even needs to do in the first place.

"She doesn't feel like it," she continues. "She's okay with me knowing, though."

"Well... it's really complicated," Henry says.

"I deserve to know," she presses, and Henry realizes that there is no way to wriggle out of this one. He looks at the sand and kicks it as he swings lightly to and fro, and thinks of something.

He gets down for a moment to retrieve something inside of his bag, and pulls out a small folder.

"What's that?"

"Some pictures," he says, and hands to her an inch-deep pile of developed photos with a rubber band keeping them together.

Gem takes them, and the picture on top of the mantelpiece springs to mind. It's a little surreal, because she always thought of it as a sort of "last of it's kind" thing, and to see such an abundance of them now is both fascinating and unsettling.

The first one is of her mother and who she assumes to be Henry in infancy.

"She had you for that long?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

As she goes through each one, the message is clear. He's not saying it, and he probably doesn't consciously mean it either, but what she's getting is "I was here first."

"Tell me what happened," she says as she continues to look at them, passing by Christmas when he was 3 and Regina had bought him giant stuffed dog. She's about ready to end the conversation, but she wants to give it a chance. She wants to know.

"When?" he asks, caught a little off guard. He thought maybe the pictures would be sufficient, like looking at a picture book and putting the story together.

"As far as you remember."

"Well... it was all right at first," he understates. Gem knows this because every picture she has passed thus far has him smiling as wide as possible. Regina smiles in them, too, the way she smiles at her now. There is one where he is dressed as a raindrop for a school play, and Regina looks so proud.

There is no way to explain the curse or the existence of fairy tales and magic, so he keeps it vague. "But things got ugly later on. She lied to me about some things, and I wasn't happy about it, so I... I went to find Emma, my real mom."

She's halfway through the stack, and she notices the smiles are no longer as wide. Sadness creeps into Regina's face and bitterness into Henry's. Emma makes an appearance once and only once, a candid shot that Henry took of her and Regina together while having lunch.

"And they had a thing, I guess."

"You guess? Then what is this?"

He takes a look at the picture of his mothers, and remembers why he took it. He wanted to collect proof that Regina didn't really love Emma, but one picture was enough to stop his campaign flat. He doesn't admit this.

"Yeah. You're right. It was definitely a thing."

"What happened then?"

"She lied to her, too," he says regretfully. "And she did some bad things."

"What kind of bad things?" There is worry and disbelief on Gem's face, and Henry immediately addresses it.

"I can't tell you. You don't have to know, I promise, she's never done them again."

She isn't satisfied with the answer, but takes it anyway, and goes back to looking through the pictures. She's nearing the end of the pile, and the one she is looking at now is of Regina with her arms around Henry, her chin atop his head.

"People were saying that Regina shouldn't be my mom, so eventually I got to stay with Emma, but..."

Henry is clenching his hands now, because this is the part where he has to own up, something that he hasn't necessarily learned from fairy tale books or the people in them. "She tried to get better but... We did wrong things, too. We made her run away. We all messed up, really bad, and we want to fix it. I just want to be a family again."

They sit in considerable silence. The last picture is of the three of them, Emma, Henry, and Regina. Something in Gem boils because again, he doesn't say it, but he wants a family in which he has a complete one while she is left alone again.

She hands him back the pictures without bounding them back up with the rubber band and gets up.

"No."

"What?" Henry says incredulously.

"Just, no! That's... that's disgusting. I need to go."

She picks up her things as Henry quickly places the photographs in his bag.

"What is your problem, Gem?" he demands, walking after her.

"You're not taking my mom from me!"

"Oh, cause you've been with her for so long!" he shouts, and immediately regrets it. Gem turns around to him with hurt, angry eyes.

"No, Gem, wait, I'm sorry," he tries to amend, approaching her with hands in front of him, but it's too late to take back the damage.

"No. I don't have to deal with you," she steps back, swatting him away. "Emma, you called her your 'real' mom. Me, I don't have a 'real' mom. Or a 'real' dad. I have birth parents, but my real parent is the one I have now. And you know what Henry, I am so_ lucky_. And you, you had her once too, but you clearly had higher priorities if you're only coming along to apologize to her _now_."

Henry stood, wordless and indignant, until he finally collects the (wrong) words to say. "I _never_ said-"

Gem is walking away briskly, not having it or else she thinks she'll burst, but he follows her to the sidewalk.

"I didn't-"

"Gem?" a car rolls by in front of them, and stops them in their tracks.

"Mom," Gem says. She looks at Henry, then back to Regina, and immediately gets inside the car in the front seat.

Henry stands there dumbfounded, still in the moment of the constricting and tense argument.

Regina sighs. "Do you need a ride home, Henry?" she asks, and it sounds as if she were talking to any of Gem's old friends.

Gem looks as if to protest, but before she can, he nods meekly and Regina invites him in. He takes a seat in the back behind Gem, and she takes a deep breath and hopes that in this situation, Henry will keep quiet and she can forget he's there.

"I told you I was picking you up today," Regina says to Gem. "You weren't at the library and you didn't pick up your cell. So I called Jackie and she said you went off with some boy," she laughed. "I was worried but now it makes sense. Which way do you live?" she asks Henry.

"Make a right here and go up the hill, and keep going straight." His voice is shaking slightly, and his posture is tensed.

Once it becomes apparent that the rest of the ride is going to be quiet, Gem turns on the radio. (She's quite bitter about this - usually her and Regina talk the whole way through except for when she falls asleep in the car.)

They pull up the blue building, and the car unlocks.

"Wait here, sweetheart," Regina tells Gem. "I'll bring you up, Henry."

This is to ensure that he doesn't run off again, but both Henry and Gem take it another way.

Gem watches them as they go up the steps. She crosses her arms, closes her eyes, and takes a long, deep breath.

When Regina and Henry are up the steps, he summons the little courage he has to speak.

"Um... I... I have something for you," he begins, and when Regina waits expectantly, he pulls something out of his bag. It's circular and solid, wrapped in purple paper and white ribbon. "As a birthday present. I forgot to give it to you last night."

Regina smiles at him, but not as the woman who loved and raised him for most of his life, but as if he were a student that finally turned in his paper. "Thank you."

She takes the gift, and she knows exactly what it is from the weight and the feel. She knows it by heart, because it used to be one of her most treasured possessions, that painted plaster handprint from so long ago...

She tucks it under her arm, indicating that she won't open it in front of him (and, as she'd never opened Emma's letters, this is likely to be untouched as well).

Something needs to be said, and Henry knows that he needs say it right now, but he doesn't know what. He just stands there, looking up at Regina with eyes that threaten to spill and mouth slightly open. His heartbeat quickens with anxiety and longing and frustration that he is so paralyzed and helpless.

And Regina can't deny that there is an urge to give in and take him up into her arms. For a moment her face washes over to the same old expression she used to give him. For a moment, it seems like she'll forgive him, hug him, and everything will be okay.

"You should go inside," she says softly instead.

Henry immediately looks down. "Yeah," he whispers.

Regina gives him one last watery smile, an apology on her part, and walks down the steps. When she is finally gone, Henry hurriedly knocks on the door.

Emma opens it and immediately starts questioning him. "Where have you been? You left your cell off - Henry?"

He ignores her and keeps his head bowed as he walks past her into his room.

"Henry?" she calls after him, but she hears his backpack being thrown onto the floor. When she comes to the doorway she finds him sitting legs crossed on his bed with the TV on, tears streaming furiously down his face.

"Oh, kid," Emma sighs empathetically, takes a seat next to him and lets him lean into her arms.

He sobs audibly then, because he's trying so hard and he knows it's not the right way but he doesn't what is, he doesn't know where to begin, or if he ever could.


	4. The Balancing Act

**A/N:** I'm sorry for the wait... heh. Also, I hope you all aren't too unhappy with the direction I'll be taking this. Please trust me on this. Thank you all again for your kind reviews and support, it warms me hearty :)

* * *

**Chapter 4**: The Balancing Act

* * *

_He spots the red on her palm, and he knows._

"_You're ... It's happening again isn't it?"_

"_Nothing's happening, kid. I'll be okay."_

* * *

Henry's gift is left in the box under the bed, where Regina keeps the letters that had accumulated over the years. She considers reading them, like she'd done every time one came in, but decides against it.

Gem retreats into her room without speaking to Regina, a sign that her encounter with Henry was not a pleasant one. When she comes inside, she finds her at her desk, scribbling away at an essay.

"Do you want to talk about this yet?" Regina asks at the doorway.

Gem shakes her head, and Regina nods in understanding even though her daughter hasn't turned around to see.

"Dinner at 8. Don't burn yourself out, okay?"

"All right. Thanks."

She gives Gem one last trying smile before she walks into the kitchen. She grabs the landline to dial Emma's number, and she knows it's a bad idea, but lines need to be drawn. Henry hurting her is one thing. Hurting Gem is another.

It surprises her, to say the least, that she even remembers those digits and can punch them in without hesitation, or that it still is a functioning number. She taps her fingers on the counter as the tedious rings on the other end go by.

"Hello?" a slightly raspy voice answers.

"Miss Swan."

"Regina-"

"Are you all right? You sound ill."

"It's nothing. What's the matter?"

"I need to ask you to keep better watch on Henry," Regina says, and cringes a little how the words feel in her mouth.

"What did he do? He went to see you, didn't he?"

"He talked to Gem." Regina's tone suggests disapproval that Emma immediately understands.

"Oh... god, I'm sorry, I'll... I'll talk to him about it."

"You didn't know?"

"He hasn't said a word to me since he got here."

Regina pauses, and mentally kicks herself for what she is about to ask. "How is he doing?"

"He's, uh... he could be better."

"Talk to him," Regina nearly commands. "Make sure he's all right."

"Why?" Emma asks, and before Regina responds with offense, she amends: "I mean, I thought you didn't ... care."

She can almost hear Emma's hurt shrug and the wince of her face.

"I do care," Regina admits. "But caring isn't needing, and it isn't forgiving, either. This conversation has gone on longer than needed, so goodnight, Emma. And remember what I've asked of you."

"Regina, hold on."

"What?"

"Can... Can I see you tomorrow? I just want to talk."

Regina leans into the counter, her free arm folded underneath the other's elbow.

She should've remembered Emma's tendency to insist sooner; she can feel herself want to give in.

"I can't."

"Okay. Sorry for troubling you. Henry will stay under my watch."

Regina nods in appreciation, despite it going unseen. "Thank you."

She hangs up the phone and stands still for a while. It takes time to settle, but suddenly she feels as if she'd fallen into old fire.

And If Gem were not two rooms within hearing distance, Regina would've screamed.

[~][~][~]

Gem is better by dinner, though she is still visibly affected by the events of the afternoon. There is less conversation at the table, but neither can blame the other. It's been a long day. They're both tired.

Regina wants to ask Gem how she's feeling, but doesn't push the subject of Henry. They have their own ways of dealing with troubling matters, and that means time and patience and lots of thinking. And while there is lag, there is always honesty and no white lies in between.

"How about a movie Saturday night?" Regina offers between chewing. "Your pick."

Gem looks up at her, a tired smile on her face. "Yeah, that sounds good. Jackie has Brave on DVD."

"Invite her over, okay? Maybe she can spend the night."

Gem nods in appreciation, and they spend the rest of their meal in comfortable quiet, with just the clacks of metal on porcelain to fill it in.

There is no reading time that night: Gem has an essay due that she would have finished earlier if her attentions and brainpower were not focused on certain ex children.

[~][~][~]

The lamp is still on when Regina wakes up in the early hours before dawn to check on her. She'd fallen asleep on her desk, graphite print no doubt pressed on her olive face, and so Regina gently stirs her awake enough to lead her to her mattress where sleep embraces her just as easily as she'd come out of it. She covers her with her blanket, brushes the loose hair from her face.

Regina sits there by Gem's bedside, rubbing the sleep from her own eyes and considering a cup of coffee rather than another fruitless attempt at peaceful rest.

She had been contemplating her conversation with Emma that evening, her request to see her. She knows that it's not just about talking. It's going to be about more requests, excuses, and more chances. She had been thinking about if she had not met Gem, if she had never come to take her in and love her as if there were never a time when it wasn't like this, she'd dive head first into requests, excuses, and chances.

These past five years were as if the air had cleared around her. There were no more storms of worry or neglect, of pain and hurt with her own tears to wash away the remains. There is just Nadia.

She is not a replacement for Henry and Emma; she is better than a replacement. She is a new beginning, a happy ending.

But there are pockets within Regina's heart where she stores away those old wants, where it doesn't have to be one or the other, but them altogether. Those old wants that she never addresses, just places them on the side. Like on top of the mantel, that solitary photo frame.

She'd thought that keeping it there would somehow make it so that she could eventually look at it and not feel anything.

It'd never worked.

Regina has only sobered. She now knows she deserves to love, and to be loved in return. There is no more drunken desire, come what may, to be forgiven, to deconstruct her entire being for the approval of those who would never grant it to her. She is sober now, but that sobriety, to her misfortune, did not come with wiping clean the heart that loved Henry and Emma Swan.

Regina sighs heavily and makes her way back to her room, scratching the back of her head in frustration that she wishes would come to her in hours that were not between night and day.

She grabs her cell phone from her bedside and sends Emma a text before she changes her mind.

_+1-3662: Come over before 4pm. You'll get 30 minutes._

* * *

_Storybrooke, the curse has broken._

Emma stands there in front of Regina outside of her cell. She's not sure how she can look at her anymore - those eyes are so foreign now, so detached from the ones she used to look into late at night.

No ounce of love nor gratitude are evident in those dark pools nor are they present in any inch of her face. Nor should there be, since they had taken her from the dangers of Whale's mob but into the confines of a jail. It made Regina feel powerless and common inside the empty shell around her, and the empty shell that was her.

"Why did you do it?" Emma demands in a low quivering voice.

Regina rolls her neck up to straighten her posture with an air of regal darkness. "I have done many things," she answers, "you'll have to be more specific."

"The turnover," Emma enunciates through gritted teeth. She grips the bars of the cell, knuckles pale and it reminds Regina of Henry's skin as he laid lifeless on the hospital bed.

"Why did you try to kill me?"

"Because I'm the Evil Queen."

"Bullshit!" Emma booms loud enough to silence Regina, but she does not shrink away. Emma can't and won't hurt her.

"You lied," she says, shaking and dismayed. "You did kill Graham. You framed Mary Margaret, tried to kill Kathryn, and... goddammit, Regina, why?"

Her voice reverberates at the last question, saturated with loud betrayal and hurt being wrung dry like a towel. She turns away from the cell, for she might kill Regina as look at her, and then afterwards herself.

There is a brief trace of humanity left in Regina's eyes. But she wills it away and she is empty again. "You would have left anyway."

Emma keeps her back to her. "I loved you."

"I told you you wouldn't."

Emma misses it, the flash on Regina's face that tells it all. _No one can love me. Not even you. Not in the end._

She turns around then, green eyes rimmed with red as she comes forward to reach through the caged cell to grab the hand tucked under Regina's folded arms. The touch visibly undoes her, her face in inquiry rather than cruel detachment.

It's nothing but Emma's breathing, heavy with her heart, until she produces a gold band from her pocket. She opens Regina's palm, as if to open apart the world, or a black hole, and drops the ring onto it. She holds her fingers shut, then, her hard stare never leaving Regina's.

"Then congratulations," she says, echoing the words of her mother before she bit down on that lethal apple. "You've won."

"Wait," Regina calls as Emma turns to leave. "Emma-"

"No," Emma replies, all the energy drained from her. It is a voice of resignation. Giving up. "Don't talk to me ever again."

"Please, I won't lie anymore. I'll tell you everything. Please don't leave me." The desperation in her grows, and she's now clenching her hands around the metal bars, ring pressed against her warm palm.

Emma only turns back to look at the mess she's made of herself. This isn't Regina. This is the Evil Queen. And she's sick. So, so sick. She shakes her head, and the when the door closes, there are no more sounds, not even of sobs or the sound of a ring dropping to the floor.

* * *

When Emma pulls herself awake, she finds that she is breathing heavily, a thick air of warmth engulfing her body and an invisible fist pummelling her heart rate. She'd dreamed of the curse, another spell of a nightmare that littered Emma's sleeping cycles every now and then.

The sun is up, and when she looks at the clock on the opposite wall, it is only 7am.

She lays back down, the fiery heat dissipating and her body relaxing with reality.

She'd spoken to Henry like Regina had asked her to. How she'd gotten a call from her and that this was a warning. She reprimanded him as best she could without anything escalating to fighting. She needed him to understand that what he did was wrong, and while he feels bad, it's for the wrong reason.

"_You can't just barge into people's life like that," she'd said, to which he replied with bitterness: "you'd know."_

"_Yeah, kid, and you would, too."_

Sometimes they forget that they love each other, or that they're the only ones left, and it turns into that. The return of Emma's "predicament" that night had made a hasty, and hurtful, reminder.

Emma breathes in and out for a solid ten minutes, making sure that it has left her system, and that it wouldn't make an appearance any time soon.

The green light flashes on her cell from the dresser across the room, and she carefully gets out of bed to check it.

It's a text from Regina, and Emma suspects that she'd made that decision after late night bottles of alcohol. (She knows she didn't, though. Not while she is still responsible for another living being.)

Emma exhales from an O-shaped mouth, thinking that it is too early, much too soon for her head to be set on fire with thoughts and precautions and plans and _I hope I don't fuck this up_.

She figures she has lots of time to prepare. 4 in the afternoon is a long way from now, she has time to calculate what to say, how Regina will likely respond, and whether to rule that line out or not.

She feels like an idiot, pacing around the room in search of notebook paper. She's reacting like a giddy teenager on her first date but the matter so much more serious than that.

She's waited and given up so much.

Henry is still asleep, and will likely be until noon, so Emma takes her time when she goes out for groceries, her cart consisting mostly of TV dinner. Impulse purchases make their way onto the cart, and Emma has to remind herself that she's technically unemployed, and the Storybrooke stash in her account won't last forever.

She checks her phone every 5 minutes to see if Regina changed her mind again. She hasn't.

Emma returns to the apartment around 10 after a leisurely drive around town, finding Henry awake and flipping through channels in the living room.

"Good morning," she greets, and he rises from the couch to help her stuff the microwave meals in the freezer. "You're up early. Sleep well?"

"Sorta. Dreamless."

"Better that my nights, I'll tell you that."

They store away the plastic bags for reuse under the sink and they decide to have Cocoa Puffs and toast with butter for breakfast.

"I need to be somewhere today," Emma informs him, and he gives her an inquiring look.

"I'm going to see her."

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, puts a spoonful of cereal and milk in his mouth to excuse him from responding.

"If you leave this building," she warns, pointing a dripping spoon at him, "or give any reason for Regina to come to our door with a restraining order, we are leaving straight away. Do you understand?"

He nods. "Yeah."

He dares not disobey this time. He hasn't recovered from Regina's coldness, his growing awareness of how _wrong_ he is, and the possibility that just keeps returning and returning, of him being alone.

[~][~][~]

"Half an hour," Regina makes clear again as they sit across from each other in the living room.

She studies Emma, noting what she did not two days before: she'd aged considerably within the five years of her absence. Her once unruly curls had fallen even more flat, and instead of a golden curtain down her back it is balled up into a messy bun. The lines on her face are deeper, more defined, and while there is still youth in her face, there is also a weariness. Emma Swan always used to have the worst posture, but something of her stance resembles a tree that had weathered a storm.

"Maybe less, if I don't like where this will be going."

"I feel like I'm in a job interview," Emma tries to joke, but it passes Regina like weak wind.

She swallows, keeping her shaking hands balled up in fists atop her knees.

"I wanted to explain to you what happened."

Regina's mouth forms into a tight line. "I think I know very well what happened." Her words are harsh but her voice is soft, and said any other way, Emma might've grabbed her coat and gone straight to the airport.

"I mean while you were gone," she clears. "A lot of things, just... they went wrong. They were wrong before, and they just got worse."

"Am I supposed to feel any sympathy for Storybrooke with this information?" Regina asks skeptically. "You know very well I'm not going back to fix anything."

"That's just it, Regina."

"What?"

"There is no Storybrooke, anymore."

Regina furrows her eyebrows at this news. "What are you saying?"

"They went back to the Enchanted Forest."

"Everyone?"

"Well, not me and Henry," Emma says, a faint sorrowful smile on her face.

Regina stares hard at her. "Why?"

"Well, all sorts of reasons," she starts, leaning back into the chair. "I'm not a princess. Or a future queen. I can't do that stuff."

"And Henry? Did he not want to leave you?"

"He didn't want to leave _you_."

Regina opens her mouth to say something, but closes it again. She shakes her head ever so slightly, not wanting any more of this. This used to work so well, when the Charmings, when _Cora_, would offer the smallest hope that Henry loved her as much as she. Now she's just tired. She's tired of wanting what is not really there.

"And neither did I," Emma says when Regina's silence threatens to wring her out of her own body. Still, she says nothing, but instead looks at her with intense eyes mixed with contradictory anger and five years of resolve crumbling.

"You were right to leave," she starts again, "Neither of us are blaming you, we aren't."

"So now what is this?" Regina asks, her throat thick. "Why are you here? Why did you have to just walk into my life again and dangle the hopeless prospect of-"

She stands up and turns away, and Emma gets up after her. "Please, no, that's not- I'm not trying to-"

Her back is still turned to her, her arms crossed. "I don't need to be hurt again."

"You won't be. I promise. We'll do better, just give us..."

"A chance?" Regina turns around, her brown eyes rimmed with a sheet of tears threatening to grow. "Five years, Emma. Five."

"Yeah, try 28," Emma finds herself shouting back, but immediately covers her mouth afterwards.

She expects Regina to come forward and strike her, but she doesn't. Her shoulders heave downward and she shakes her head.

"I'm sorry. That wasn't right."

"What do you want, Emma?"

"I just wanted to talk, I didn't mean to-"

Regina looks on at Emma as she begins to actually cry. It's such a reversal, to see this. Usually, back then, it was Regina begging Emma for mercy instead of the other way around. These are no crocodile tears. She knows a woman in search of another chance when she sees one. She sees herself in Emma-she had _always_ seen herself in her-and can't bring herself to inflict the same cruelty that she was met with so long ago.

"I'll ask again," Regina says softly, beckoning Emma to look upward to her without touching her. "What do you want?"

Emma closes her eyes, breathes, and opens them again. "Give us a week."

"One?"

"One."

She gives Emma a regretful smile. "That's not enough to undo everything."

"I know," Emma shrugs. "We just want... we want to prove..."

Regina stares at her long and hard again before she speaks again.

"There's more, isn't there?"

"More what?"

"There are things you aren't telling me about what happened in Storybrooke."

Emma turns her head away. "I explained them in the letters."

"I won't read them."

"Then I won't tell you."

"Why?"

"I think it's time for me to go."

Emma walks past Regina and retrieves her coat hanging by the doorway.

"Aren't you going to wait for _my_ answer?" Regina asks.

Emma pauses then, frozen in time. "What will it be?"

It's as it has happened all over again, with Emma's back toward Regina, missing the look on her face that says it all.

"No. And I'm sorry. But no."

Emma does not turn to face her. She nods to keep the tears from falling, and heads out the door.

[~][~][~]

When Gem comes home, she finds her mother staring at the picture again. The same look covers her face as she sits on the sofa and looks into a gaping hole with her legs crossed and her hand over her mouth in deep contemplation. When she stands at the doorway, she expects Regina to snap out of it again, ask an irrelevant question. But that's not what happens.

"Gem," Regina calls for her softly, her eyes not leaving Emma and Henry's frozen beings, "we make all our choices together, you know that, right?"

Gem sets down her backpack and takes a seat next to Regina. Her mother's arms unfold immediately and wrap around Gem.

"Of course," Gem replies, resting her head on her shoulder. "Why?"

Regina takes a deep breath, and Gem can already anticipate what she is about to ask. She stares with her at the picture, those faces she knew were packed with history.

"How do you feel about Emma and Henry being around for a while?"

"I don't know," Gem says. "Depends on how they'll be."

"They want a second chance. A week to prove they deserve it."

"Do they?"

Regina pauses for a while, shifts in her seat on the sofa. Her hand pets the top of Gem's head as she searches for the right words.

"If your father were alive," she begins, and Gem closes her eyes. "And your mother came back... would you forgive them?"

"Not right away."

"Would you want to? If they said they could change, would you want to believe them?"

It takes a few seconds for Gem to reply, though she knows the answer. She'd asked herself this question many times before.

"Yes."

"Why?" Regina asks.

"Because... even if I don't trust them, I still love them."

"Hmm," her mother sighs, and leans her head on Gem's.

"Is that what you're feeling?" Gem asks.

She takes a pause mirroring Gem's before she answers. "Yes, it is."

Gem opens her eyes again to look at Emma and Henry's picture. Something inside her hurts, not for fear of being set aside in favor of the two of them, but that she knows the pain her mother is suffering. She knows that, while she would never abandon Regina, if she could find a way for her old family and her new family to be just _family_, she'd do it. But the harsh reality, to Gem, is that she will never get that chance.

But Regina is getting that, right now.

"Can you tell me about Emma?" Gem asks. "You've told me about your old family, but not about her."

"Why just Emma?"

"I can already guess about Henry."

Regina sighs. "Well..."

"Did you love her?"

She hesitates, "Yes. Yes I did, very much."

"Why?" Gem questions. "If things went wrong?"

"It's not as simple as it seems," Regina starts, shifting her arms around Gem and keeping her hand on her head, combing through her black hair. She is much more than just Gem's mother for time being: she is a confidante, a best friend. "Or maybe it is. We love people who hurt us because we want to believe they can be better. I hurt Emma, Henry too, and... no one is blameless in the end.

"Sometimes we also love people who hurt us because we think we deserve it. And we think: maybe one day. One day we'll be worthy enough and the hurting can stop. And then we never are and it never does."

Gem can almost feel the warm teardrops roll down her mother's face. "Mama, you're worth the entire world. So it will stop."

Regina plants a kiss on the top of her head. "It already has."


End file.
